


Closed Doors

by crookedneighbour



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blackmail, Daddy Issues, Dubious Consent, Homophobia, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Repulsed Roose, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 09:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11506299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedneighbour/pseuds/crookedneighbour
Summary: Roose has inserted himself into Robb's Stark circle of trust.





	Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emmaliza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/gifts).



> IDK i experimented with time and POV a bit? idk how much i like this. yolo.
> 
> Prompt: all the northern lords getting sent out during some battle strategy meeting or somesuch, so Roose can fuck Robb while they're right outside; Robb has to stay quiet while Roose whispers in his ear about how it would destroy him as King in the North if his bannermen knew what he was letting Roose do to him.

Taking a king to bed was not the wisest thing a man could do. It was, in fact, a swift way to end up headless. However, Roose was a far sighted man. 

There was of course a certain petty satisfaction in seeing Eddard's son, the first Stark king in centuries (and the second for Roose to ride to war for), knelt and humiliated. It had taken time to earn the boy's trust of course. Eddard certainly never trusted him. 

He'd had to trick the boy a bit, but that was expected. He'd escorted the boy back to his tent after a night of drinking, put the boy to bed with a kiss, and claimed it was Robb's doing in the morning. Robb had noticed the similarities between he and Eddard's eyes, something Roose tired of hearing.

 

 _Robb sat on the edge of his bed, head still swimming._ _He was back in his tent with someone? Where was Theon?_  

_Roose Bolton was tending to his clothes. His limbs felt heavy. He was a strange quiet man. Roose had handed him the last cup of wine. Theon had had something funny to say about it. What was it?_

_Roose nudged him back towards the bed. He seemed amused. Gods, his eyes. In the dark they looked less pale, more like his father's had been._

_"Your eyes.. They look like my father's...." he mumbled, seated on the edge of his bed._

_"Do they, your grace?"_

_They were of a proximity to each other they had not been before. Roose looked older than he, but how old? He was older than his mother was, and his father had been._

_"...How old are you...?" Robb continued._

_"Old enough to be your father, I'm sure," Roose replied._

_Robb's heart felt heavy. He looked away a moment, and Roose's lips were at his. He had no memory of Roose drinking._

 

Truthfully, he found kissing the boy a messy affair. He'd not enjoyed with either wife much either, but it tended to make them more willing. It seemed to work on Robb as well. More than once the boy lay a soft, obedient kiss on Roose's hand, his face turning bright red in the process. Just once, Robb gently drew Roose's gloved fingers into his mouth and sucked. The boy's desperation had been enough to stir his cock. 

It felt foreign to desire something, but Roose supposed it was the irony of the whole thing. The boy was fighting a rebellion, but so eager to obey. Perhaps the necessity of a strong front wore him down. 

Robb was now bent over the maps before him. The other lords would be arriving soon. Roose had come early on purpose.

He could admire the boy like this, his pretty Southern looking hair, his lean form, his youth and inexperience juxtaposed against the weight of his crown. The plan was to leverage this all into power over the future King. If Robb won, Roose would have something on him, something that would make him burn with shame if anyone knew.

Roose lay a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You're ready," Roose said vaguely.

"This army is ready, my bannermen are ready, but if I march for King's Landing right away, the Lannisters will have my sisters executed long before we arrive," Robb sighed. 

"That's not what I was speaking of."

Roose ran his hand down the boys back.

"Now?" Robb snapped. "That's what you're thinking of now as my family and our countrymen bleed?"

His brow was furrowed. He had the same stubborn nature as every Stark before him.

"You have all, but thrown yourself across my bed, your grace," Roose replied, placing sharp emphasis on Robb's title. "I didn't think I was sworn to Renly Baratheon. It would be a shame for your mother to know."

Robb grew silent at that, he was headstrong, but the nature of what had trespassed between them was known to him now. Too much had happened for him to refuse.

"Shed your clothes. I'd save both our time by having you here," Roose continued.

Robb obeyed. His body was littered with bruises and freckles in equal measure. The war had hardened him certainly, but he was barely a man by Roose's measure.

"It would serve you to keep quiet," Roose offered. The boy's resignation wasn't enough to stir him. "This isn't the South. Your reputation would be destroyed."

Roose leaned in, letting his lips brush Robb's neck.

"Everything your father worked and died for would crumble."

Robb tightened his fists, and looked down. The shame in the boy roused something. This was for all he had endured, all his father's before him had endured, beneath Stark rule.

Roose had come prepared for this, bringing what he needed to slick himself. He had been torn about whether to truly enter the boy, or press against his thighs and ass. The whole process seemed unclean and extraneous, especially when he could spill his seed across the boy's thighs.

Despite having lubricated himself, it still took some difficulty to fit themselves together. Robb was certainly the maid he looked. It was a bit different than Roose had expected it to feel, but less strange than he expected. In the end, the boy was a bit of tight flesh was all that part of his body seemed to respond to. Perhaps there was a trophy of the conquest he could take for the Dreadfort, maybe a lock of his sweet king's hair?

Robb moaned softly as their bodies rocked in unison. It seemed as if it hurt. The boy would certainly look his place squirming beneath a knife. Roose would much rather have the boy as prisoner first. Time to break him would have been a luxury, but such a situation arising was little more than an idle fantasy.

Roose placed a gloved hand around the boy's bare cock.

"Quiet yourself, your grace. I'll be finished with you soon," Roose urged. How nice it would be to be finished with him more permanently. Roose felt the boy stiffen as his thrusts continued. A man would stiffen at anything, but Robb likely did not know that.

When he finished, Robb lay still. His thighs were marked with seed, his young body both roused and violated. He looked as if he wished to cry.

"Dress yourself, and I'll gather the other lords," Roose commanded. The boy would be in shock for a bit, but it would pass.

Roose gave him an encouraging pat.

"Come, your grace, you have a war to win."

 


End file.
